Angel Myths
by SwordsmanOfSorrow
Summary: A hired gun known only as the Red Death works under the watchful eye of the most dangerous man in the country. Two priest of the Magdalene Order investigate the disappearance of one of their top agents. A dark plot forged in shadows comes to full maturity
1. Prologue

Hello everyone! I do not own Stephen King's The Dark Tower and all characters names are used out of admiration for such a great author. I also do not own the following anime Chrono Crusade, the Get Backers, or Hellsing. This is a work of fanfiction, based off of ideas of myself and a friend of mine.

Please Enjoy,

S.O.S

_Prologue_

For as long as Mankind has existed, there have been stories. These stories were passed by word of mouth, from one man to another for centuries. Each storyteller, usually and elder, when speaking may be inclined to add his own piece to a story. Story time was once a sacred and moving act. Members of each family waited anxiously for there chance to tell the old stories. These stories or myths gave reason to the dull and dreary lives of the tribes. Myths have an amazing ability to capture one's attention and hold it for years. They manipulate our senses and explain this haphazard world in which we live.

These myths tell of heroes destined for glory, and villains destined for Hades. They speak of love and endurance. They also speak of the end of time and of all existence. Some are labeled nothing but idol nonsense, or scientific inaccuracies. The sun does not rise because of Apollo, nor does the sea swell because of Poseidon. That which was believed to be a demon is actually a disease. Devils don't exist, nor do gods. It's all a construct of our imaginative minds. They are stories and nothing more. Yet there are still those who hold fast to these myths. Those loyal to the old ways. They feel a truth exists in them, and are constantly striving to find it.

Surely at one point in life one has dreamed of finding the Holy Grail, or even the fabled Excalibur. The legends of Arthur and Camelot; of Hercules and the Golden Apples; of King Midas and his Golden Touch. Stories of The Darkslayer and the Death of Time; of Roland and the Dark Tower; of Frodo and the Ring of Power. These stories have affected the lives of humans for centuries. If they are nothing but a child's speak then why pursue it so passionately? Do they have any meaning at all? How can one be certain of their existence?

One thing is for certain. These myths have stood the test of time, as if guided by the wings of Angels. These angels carry our hopes and dreams upon them. They carry the burden that so many have dismissed. They keep the stories going. This is one such story.


	2. Josh Chambers

Hello everyone! I do not own Stephen King's The Dark Tower. All characters and names are used out of admiration for such a great author. I also do not own the following anime Chrono Crusade, the Get Backers, or Hellsing. This is a work of FanFiction, based off of ideas of myself and a friend of mine.

Please Enjoy,

S.O.S

_Chapter 1 - Josh Chambers_

Josh Chambers hurried inside the pub to escape the evening rain. He stood for a moment in the doorway and absorbed the scene. No, none of _his_ men were here. He pulled up a stool and called for Guinness. He had just betrayed the leader of the biggest gang in the city and the only thing on his mind was getting out of town. Getting out of town and beer. He gulped at his drink and took a quick look again to see if _they_ were around. The King had eyes everywhere. Nothing was as it seemed. He remembered some faces, but that didn't mean anything. There was always a latex mask lying around when needed. He didn't feel anything odd either. But feelings are as fickle as the wind.

As the alcohol went to work on his system Josh began to relax. He wouldn't have many more than this. He needed to be sober tonight. He needed to be sober for a lot of nights for a long time to come. _The only ones you can ever count on getting what they deserve are fools._ Josh hoped to God that this wouldn't prove true. He weighed his options on his future life and name. He liked ice cream, maybe be an ice-cream man. He could move to New England, change his name to Mike Wales and sell ice cream to the little kids that run through the park on Sundays. There was only one problem with this plan. He had just remembered he was lactose intolerant.

He hadn't been one of the bosses most trusted "employees", but he wasn't a born Judas. For the last few years he had been with the some mid level members on small heists, drug deals, and maybe a man hunt or two. He could have done without the blood stains. It wasn't until this night that he had abandoned his brotherhood. He had decided that the mobster life wasn't for him and he had to get out. He of all people knew how hopeless and impossible his situation was. You don't just walk to the boss, hand in your gun and wave goodbye to the guys as you stroll down to the streets to the nearest restaurant. Its either work or die. Some were given the privilege of a quick death. Unfortunately, this was not for the majority.

Josh ordered a second Guinness. It tasted even better than the last one. A man who realizes he hasn't much time left to live begins to notice the intrinsic beauty of all things around him. The sound of the rain as it fell and the clash of thunder took on almost rhythmic qualities. The smoke drifting around the pub combined with the music, almost intoxicating. The biker sitting a stool away from him was an exception. No amount of liquor could ever make him think the man was beautiful.

The door to the pub sounded as if it had just been kicked open. Josh froze to the seat and grew intensely fascinated with his drink. He waited for the intruder to grab him, bash his skull into the bar and drag him out in the streets for his execution. The woman walked across the pub and grabbed one of the remaining stools at the far end. _Must have been the storm. Damn, had me worried for a second._ Josh breathed a quiet sigh of relief and took another taste of his magic draught.

He weighed his options again, but all ended terribly. He decided the most he could do was drink his beer and then grab the next bus to New Orleans. It was a big city, hard to find people in. Josh took a look at the sullen faces of his bar-mates when he saw him; The man sitting at the table near the entrance.

Josh's eyes grew with terror as he quickly turned away from the man. How could he not have noticed him on his way in? He had been so sure that no one was in the bar, but his luck held true. He shook uncontrollably for a moment before he took hold of his face and tried to think of a way to get out. The entrance was covered so all he had was the back way. He would get up to use the bathroom and on his way slip down the hallway into the storage room and then make a mad dash down the alley. It was all he could think of. It had to work.

He tried to keep his eyes on the television as he finished his beer, but they kept giving nervous glances to the man near the door. He finished his drink and got up a little too quickly. Josh made his way across the rest of the pub to the hallway that led to the bathrooms. He dared not look back until he made the turn a few steps later. Upon making the turn he stole a quick glance at the room again. The man had not moved. He walked further down the hall and quickened his pace as he drew near the storage rooms. He dodged a drunk coming out of the bathroom and hurried past into the storage room. Once in he ran for the exit and ignored the shout from the bald guy with the crate and eyeball tattoo on his head. Some guys are just plain weird.

He burst through the door and made a mad dash out of the alley. He ran for what seemed to be the entire town, but turned out to be only 3 blocks. He ran further casting turning his head every few seconds expecting to find his executioner right on his tail. The man wasn't behind him, but that didn't slow him down. He jumped on the first bus he saw and moved to the center seats. He collapsed into the seat and tried to catch his breath. It was now when he realized the painful stitch that had grown in his side, and the cramp forming in his left leg. _Never drink and jog._ With his right hand he massaged the cramp out of his leg. He gasped for air like a claustrophobic and leaned his head against the window. He felt like crap. Not even normal crap. Like sick man in the hospital crap.

He opened his eyes and looked in front of him. He couldn't breath. There he was sitting right in front of him. Dark raven hair covering his face, and that bloody coat hiding no doubt a .45 with a bullet just for him. He sat there frozen staring at the man in front of him. He sat quite casually, never lifting his head. Honestly, he looked like a Goth punk who fell asleep on the bus after a party at the local underground rave.

The bus pulled to a stop to let more passengers on. Josh didn't even think as he rushed for the door and knocked the woman with the boxes out of his way. They would buy him some time, Goth boy would have to do the same.

He jumped off the bus and splashed into the gutter. Ignoring the cold water sinking into his boots he ran. He encountered no obstacles in his path. The streets were always clear on a death-day. He ran for another block until the stitch in side commanded him to stop. _Life's a bitch, and then you die._ He could see Goth boy a block back under the street lamp. He started to move again, but the pain slowed him down. He slipped into the nearest alley and pushed on towards the chain-linked fence in front of him.

Josh could see his escape right before him and gave everything he had to get over that fence. He slipped on the wet trash and fell. He struggled to stand. He was on his knees, preparing to stand, before he felt the presence of the man behind him. He could see the faint reflection of the man cast off by the streetlights outside in the murky water in front to him. Josh slowly turned to face his executioner. The last sight that flashed before his eyes, were the crimson eyes of a monster.

And thus Josh Chambers too came to acknowledge the presence of the Red Death.


	3. Holy Man

Hello everyone! I do not own Stephen King's The Dark Tower and all characters names are used out of admiration for such a great author. I also do not own the following anime Chrono Crusade, the Get Backers, or Hellsing. This is a work of fanfiction, based off of ideas of myself and a friend of mine.

Please Enjoy,

S.O.S

_Chapter 2 - Holy Man_

The flashing lights from the surrounding police cars lit up the night. Police had closed off the area to block the hundreds flocking to get a glimpse of the mess. The gunshot had been reported by the landlord of the adjacent apartment house. She had been having here evening coffee and watching the news with her cat, Molly, when the shot was fired. She doubted the noise at first, but her curiosity got the better of her, as was her habit. She often took more interest in the lives of her tenants than she should.

She had stuck her head out to see what had happened. Due to the lack of light she could not be sure, but the faint outline of a person could be seen. She checked again with a light, putting herself at risk if the 'killer' was still around, and found the man hunched over in the alley. She saw the trail of blood the rain was washing away, as well as that hideous thing on the wall.

Fr. Piatak was stopped by one of the officers as he drove up to the scene. Upon realizing his trade and purpose he let him pass. He parked his car a block down and made his way past those present as well as the infamous "Do Not Cross" barrier. He pulled out his stole, kissed it, and swung it around his neck as he walked to the crime scene. The police cleared a path for him as he went to his work. _Another day in the life of Super Priest. _The priest knelt down next to what was once a man known as Josh Chambers, but that time had passed. He crossed the man's forehead and consulted his book for the appropriate prayer. As he was finishing the lieutenant pushed through the clamoring police.

"I want these streets cleared immediately and paramedics to move the body as soon as possible. Get me a report of any eye witnesses, family, bar mates, anything!"

The priest finished his prayer as the officer approached the scene. He closed his book and stood out of the path of the gathering crowd.

The lieutenant gave a quick look at the scene before he began giving orders to his officers again. He stood staring at the wall in disgust before he turned to acknowledge the priest's presence.

"Evening Father. Thank you for coming."

"It's in the job description."

The lieutenant grunted in response as he turned towards the masses all struggling see the developing situation. "Amazing. Absolutely amazing."

The priest removed his stole and folded it into his pockets. "The usual crowd seems to have gathered again."

"Eleven deaths and these people just eat it up like the plaza's new dish. The worst of them is the press, always shoving their notebooks and camera's in first chance they get. God had better hurry up and come back. Otherwise there won't be enough of us left."

"Lieutenant D'Agosta, have there been any leads as to the killer's identity?"

D'Agosta stood silent for a moment before a sigh of frustration escaped from his lips. "No. We've analyzed the last ten and compared them all. So far all we know is that all the victims were killed from a single gunshot to the head from a high caliber weapon from close range. No other marks or signs of struggle besides those caused by the victims' attempts at escape. We can guess the employer, but as to why he would go picking off no names like Chambers is a mystery to me."

"I see."

"Listen, I'm going to have to ask you to clear out soon. Maybe head out to the crowd. See if anyone needs comforting."

"Thank you, Vincent. I'll see you Sunday."

Lieutenant D'Agosta nodded in agreement as he made his way out of the alley to the sergeant in charge of the scene.

Father Piatak stood staring at Josh again. _God, please welcome him home. And please, don't let us lose another one._ He heard the officers approaching to bag the man. He paid his final respects and made to leave. As he did, he looked to the wall that he had ignored before. In the glowing lights from the police cars, he could just make out the image plastered upon it. It was a crudely drawn eye, drawn in blood. Could have been paint, but he had seen one such emblem at the last scene. Forensics had discovered that the images had been drawn in the victims own blood. _What ever happened to just leaving a business card?_

The priest walked through the dispersing crowd towards his car. As he slid into the driver's seat he tossed his book into the passenger seat and revved up the engine. _An eye…sounds familiar. _He pulled out of the scene and started on his way back to the rectory.

The streets were clear and silent. They always were on the reaping days of death, as if in some mock reverence. Not a light left save for the street lamps, but even those seemed dark. The priest was familiar with these nights, for he had seen many…far too many. Eleven deaths had passed in the previous two months, each with a strange calling card. Josh was now one of the eleven. The Mafia had been considered, as was their style. The Mafia denied involvement as always and without sufficient evidence to continue the search the police had been forced to drop the investigation. Theories had been developed, but none were able to accurately crack the case.

The priest stuck the hands-free device into his ear and dialed a call. After four rings an answer came.

"St. Raphael's."

"It's me Remmington."

"Fr. Kyle, so good to hear from you. I take it you have already paid respects to the late Josh Chambers."

"Yes. The crowds have grown since last time. Had trouble getting the car through them all."

"I hope you didn't break any commandments in the process," Remmington responded jokingly.

"Heh, not this time. Remmington, I need to you get Constance to look into something for me."

"And what might that be?"

"See what she can find about a certain symbol: A lidless eye. It might be situated over a phoenix."

"Roger that. Although, you should be more than familiar with such a symbol."

"I know, but my memory isn't my best quality. Just have her pull up what she can and leave it on my desk. The symbols been showing up a lot lately, and I feel I'm missing something."

"I understand. I'll have her get right on it."

"Thank you, Ewan."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Sister Marie made a wonderful dinner tonight with a complimenting desert. We saved you some dinner, but knowing your dislike of cake we have already taken the liberty of consuming it."

The priest laughed, "Thanks for filling me in. I'll be home shortly, just going to make a quick stop."

"Very well, I shall speak to you then."

"God Bless."

Remmington hung up the phone and once again, the priest was left in silence. The priest rode in the silence, until he could bare it no more. He turned on the radio and let the music sink deep into his ears. _If love be the music of life, play on. Shakespeare? Possibly. _As he jammed to Wheezer, he could not dispel the image of Josh's sprawled figure in the alleyway.

The priest pulled into St. Raphael's parking lot and proceeded to the church. He dipped his fingers in Holy Water, blessed himself, and genuflected as he took a seat near the front of the church. He sat for a few moments in silence before the tears came. Tears for Josh, for his killer, and for the entire world. He hung his head, lost without an answer. _Why God, must there be such evil in this world…why such sorrow…and how do we face tomorrow?_ His head shot up in an instant, and his eyes fell upon the Tabernacle. And he heard.

Fr. Piatak smiled.


	4. Deals In Shadows

Hello everyone! I do not own Stephen King's The Dark Tower, nor Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's Brimstone. All characters are used out of admiration for such a great authors. I also do not own the following anime Chrono Crusade, the Get Backers, or Hellsing. This is a work of Fanfiction, based off of ideas of myself and a friend of mine.

S.O.S

_Chapter 3 - Deals in Shadows_

The abandoned amusement park was a well known site among the people. The park had been the site of more incidents than most believed could happen in modern day tourist attractions. Most notable among the incidents was the death of a ten year old boy. It was believed that he had fallen out of the roller coaster and plunged to his death as the next train took off, decapitating him. No one got to ride the roller coaster that day.

Nor did anyone ride it again.

Shortly after the boys death a mysterious fire let loose across the park, ravaging the park of its charm and painfully bright colors. The fire had been inspected but no probable cause was found. No matches, no gasoline, not even the convenient time bomb in a Christmas present. The park was now mostly burned. No visitors came by, except for the occasional group of kids sneaking in to show off their bravado.

The Red Death walked through the gates and proceeded towards the roller coaster. Since its abandonment, the Red Death had found the place and used it as a makeshift "hideaway." The park was silent, as if terrified to speak in his presence. As he neared the roller coaster, he turned left into the employ entrances and descended the maintenance stairs to the lower levels.

Over grown centipedes and other lawn grubs welcomed him with razor teeth. These mechanical thrills had long since stopped running, and their foamy skin had cracked, revealing their metal skeletons. Further down the angels and demons did battle, as a tower thirty foot figure of Satan watched over in twisted glee. Despite the usual comical art works depicting the fallen angel as a skinny pitch-forked villain, or the hideous goat man, this particular production did _him_ more justice.

As he passed the tower figure he could not help but stare up at the magnificently, malicious, monstrosity and pay his regards. After doing so he pulled out the cell phone in the pocket of his coat. Calling the only number in his phone book he pulled the phone up to his ear as the ringing began. Two rings later a voice came on the line.

"_Yes, My servant, what news do you have for me?"_ said the voice with a notable tone of excitement.

"Target had been silenced."

"_Excellent, excellent. Traitors are most inconvenient, but still have their uses in death."_

The servant was not sure of the meaning of this, but agreed anyway.

"What is my next assignment, Master?"

"_After Mr. Chambers' display I am sure the rest of the low men will keep in line for some time."_

"I understand…"

"_I shall call on you, my servant, when your services are necessary."_

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The line died as the Master hung up his phone, leaving the Red Death in the silence of the park. He put the phone back into his pocket and stared up at the dark abyss of the elevator shaft. His eyes were not like those of normal humans who were limited to the hours of sunlight as their guidance. He could see just as clearly in the night as he did during the day, an almost supernatural quality. It was fitting that such a gift be bestowed upon him. He did his work by the light of the moon, deals in shadows. The dark temptress of the night held many secrets, all of which he sought to explore

For sometime he had known he was not of the same "make" as most people. He excelled basic human potential both physically and mentally. A "superhuman" as some would say, but he knew there was more to it. His employer had revealed to him his true nature. He accepted this revelation, for it was the only one that fit. He seemed to have been created solely for such a purpose. But despite the King's words of wisdom doubt still found a way to surface. Sometimes he would ponder questions throughout the night, seeking the answer but finding none. At times he felt that his current situation was all that there was and all that could be done. Other times he felt that there was more, as if another plain of existence existed and awaited his discovery of it. He did not know which was true. All he knew was what the King had told him. He was the Red Death, and that was his work.

No more.

No less.

These thoughts came tonight as well. Except now Josh Chambers joined the many faces that interrogated him without mercy. The faces always followed. All the deaths he had witnessed and personally brought about were always before him. But it did not stop there. No, faces he did not even know would come. Thousands and millions more seemed to follow him, maybe seeking the answers as he was. Little did it matter; the answer was always just out of reach. No rest for the wicked.

As he began to drift into the subconscious, three words escaped his lips,

"What is truth?"

Another answer that would probably never be found.


	5. Tea for Two

Hello everyone! I do not own Stephen King's The Dark Tower, nor Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's Brimstone. All characters are used out of admiration for such a great authors. I also do not own the following anime Chrono Crusade, the Get Backers, or Hellsing. This is a work of Fanfiction, based off of ideas of myself and a friend of mine.

S.O.S

_Chapter 4 – Tea for Two_

After exiting the church Fr. Piatak moved onward to the rectory. The meeting room lights were still on. _Did I leave the Playstation on? Or was it the Gamecube?_ He put the key in the lock, turned it and walked into the kitchen. It was a small kitchen, despite the house's size. True only two priests were in residence, but the events that occurred called for a much larger kitchen. However, they made do. He could smell the dinner that he had missed not but a few hours earlier. His stomach gave a great lurch, as if seeking revenge on its executioner. He shrugged off the mental image of a cartoon stomach grumbling about food as he hung his keys on the rack.

He closed the door behind him and first thought of getting some of those treasured leftovers. He pulled out the plate left for him out of the fridge and a drink. We walked out of the kitchen to the meeting room to find out why Remmington was wasting power and to eat his dinner. He entered the room and nearly let his dinner slip out of his fingers. His superior, Sister Kate, sat in the head chair sipping her tea, evidently awaiting his arrival.

Stammering he said, "S-s-sister Kate! Why are you here? I mean, uh, it's a pleasure to see you Sister.

"I wish I could say the same, Fr. Kyle. It seems whenever we speak now it is always in reference to the recent string of killings that your branch has been investigating."

Trying to regain his composure he placed the dinner on the table and took a seat. He hadn't been expecting his superior to drop in so unexpectedly and catch him ready to shovel food down his throat. He hadn't a clue either she had decided to show up in person, an "honor" reserved for only special "clients." He could already feel himself switching into panic mode, but bit his tongue in an attempt to stay focused.

"Fr. Kyle, I will be frank with you. The Magdalene Order is growing worried with the recent murders. If it were not for your superior record I would have pulled the case from your jurisdiction at the first opportunity," she paused for a moment to stir her tea, letting the silence emphasize her statement.

_Well isn't that comforting?_

She continued, "However, Fr. Remmington has the utmost confidence that you are on the verge of a breakthrough."

"You see, Kyle, if you keep forgetting to check into headquarters occasionally the boss may grow suspicious."

Fr. Piatak turned to see the man from whom the voice came and was not surprised to find Remmington leaning against the door frame, conveniently tucked away.

"Sister, Kate informed me of her intentions to visit the city, and although I tried to persuade her otherwise, she thought it was necessary to come."

"You conveniently left that out when I called earlier."

"So sorry, must have slipped my mind," he said with his usual grin.

Sister Kate spoke again, "The point, Fr. Kyle, is that this case is an unusual one and I expect frequent updates on your progress. It's hard trying to keep the Council satisfied with vague details."

"I understand, Sister."

"I'm glad to hear it," she placed the finished cup of tea on the saucer and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

"….so…can I have dinner now?"

"No."

He sagged into his seat even further at this upsetting news. _How does she expect me to work without at least a little snack?_

Remmington chuckled at his reaction.

"You should have grabbed something before you went out to train the deacons."

Fr. Kyle returned this statement with only a death glare. Remmington could be really irritating on an empty stomach.

Looking towards Sister Kate he asked, "So what else is there to report, Sister Kate?"

After a few moments of silence she lifted her head to meet his eyes and met his stare with her cold piercing eyes.

"We have reason to believe that your patron is present in this country."

Straightening up in his chair, attention in full gear he could not help but let his jaw drop in amazement.

"Here? But how?"

"We have been tracing an energy signal that we picked up a few months ago. It appeared suddenly, and then disappeared just as quickly. At first it was believed to be nothing but a small Hell-spawn that found its way out. But then it came back, stronger than before. The signal is similar to that of the last sighting. Surely you remember what it was like?"

_How could he forget the day when heaven and hell itself were torn open from a celestial war? The day that that thing fell from the sky, Pandemonium._

"We have traced the signal to several key points in the last few months. If you recall there were similar cases to this one in the last year. His energy source, though weak, seems to follow them."

"Are you saying that Raphael is somehow connected with the recent string of homicides?"

"All I am saying is that the factor cannot be overlooked. I just pray that it is not so."

Fr. Kyle still stared in disbelief at Sister Kate, as she went on to explain the Order's plans to pursue the case. He hadn't realized that he had been shaking the entire time, or that his knuckles were pure white and gripping the arms of his chair. He tried to loosen his grip and attempt to listen again to Sister, but could not. _Raphael, can you really be here? Is it possible?_

"Did you hear me, Fr. Kyle?" Sister Kate asked with an impatient tone.

Remmington walked away from his place at the wall, moved beside Fr. Kyle, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"We understand the situation, Sister Kate. We'll keep you updated on our progress, and also provide information if found concerning the sightings of Raphael if they come about," Remmington stated with the intention of ending the meeting.

"…very well. I wish you both the best of luck. And…God willing…we will find Raphael."

"Thank you, Sister Kate."

Remmington walked her out of the room and guided her to the convent next door. Fr. Kyle was left alone, his mind still racing. He would remain in this state until Remmington returned. He simply could not believe that his comrade could possibly be right under his nose and he couldn't so much as sense his presence. Maybe he had forgotten what he was like? No, that wasn't it. Something was wrong, something that he couldn't quite understand.

The sound of Fr. Remmington re-entering the rectory snapped him back into reality. His fingers cracked and his hands ached as he released the chair arms. He relaxed in his chair and stared at his dinner, but he no longer had any appetite for it. Yet another meal that he had missed. _Captain's log…I'm starving…send for help…please?_

Remmington entered and stood in the door way looking at the tired figure that was his brother priest.

"I hope that wasn't too much news at once for you?"

"I still can't believe that he's here, and yet I can't feel him. The three of us were always able to trace each other."

"I know. However, after his disappearance it is understandable that some changes may have occurred, ones that we were left blind to."

"I guess…but…how much?"

"Who knows? Evidently this it is part of God's plan, whether we like it or not."

Fr. Kyle groaned. "Why does He have to be so complicated? I think He enjoys messing with me."

"Well there was that one time you-"

"Don't say it!"


	6. Insomnia

Hello everyone! I do not own Stephen King's The Dark Tower, nor Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's Brimstone. All characters are used out of admiration for such a great authors. I also do not own the following anime Chrono Crusade, the Get Backers, or Hellsing. This is a work of Fanfiction, based off of ideas of myself and a friend of mine.

S.O.S

_Chapter 5 - Insomnia_

_He opened his eyes to a world of darkness. He stood amidst a parched desert earth, void of life and of existence. His eyes shifted from one side of the endless waste land to the other, but there was nothing to behold. The ground crunched beneath his feat as he took a step forward. He began walking, hoping that he would find someone or something. As he took his first steps a flash of light lit up the sky. Lightning was his first thought, and indeed it appeared to be lightning. He watched the lightning storm, frozen in amazement. A bolt flew from the sky and began to descend in front of him. His instincts told him to jump away from the danger, but he stood in awe of it. He could see the arch of the bolt stretching across the sky, in a strange curve of light. As the bolt fell closer to the man's location he saw that what was striking wasn't lightning. _

_The creature he beheld plummeted from its lightning arc down into the hard earth. Dust flew in all directions upon impact, separating the man from the creature. More lightning arcs began to fly from the sky and follow the example of the first, crashing into the earth in a scattered array. The man stood amidst the destruction staring at the site where the first had fallen. After the initial dust began to settle the man could see a dark shadow standing erect where the creature had made impact. He walked towards the figure cautiously. He heard the crashes from all around him of the others falling, but was not daunted. _

_He was within ten feet away when his eyes began to make out the features of the fallen creature. It was a tree. A wickedly misshapen tree. The black branches curled and edged off in strangely contorted angles. Each branch was bare without any sign of buds of any kind. As his eyes moved from the branches to the trunk he recoiled slightly. Even in the darkness he could clearly see the face in the tree. It at first glance would have been overlooked as a large knot in the trunk, but the features of some manner of face were visible. He stood staring at the closed eyes of the face, and took a quick look around and saw that nearby trees held the same features. He reached out to touch the bark of the face, but before his hand was even two feet close to it, the eyes opened._

_The eyes were dark orbs that pierced the man, sending chills through out his body. He stepped back in surprise just as the face opened its hideous mouth and uttered the most bone chilling shriek the man could have imagine. Each new tree opened its eyes and mouth and joined in the cry. It was a cry of pain, one that the man was familiar with, though not of this magnitude. The tree branches soon joined in as they began to thrash around violently, as if in mortal danger. The screams and the whipping of the branches combined with the crashes created a darkly primitive symphony of destruction that ripped across the once silent plane. _

_The sound of what he thought was thunder arose amidst the cries. He looked up to find its source, already knowing it was directly above him. He watched as the sky seemed to quake with each clap of thunder. The thunder began to increase and the trees' unholy chorus increased in intensity. As the hellish orchestra reached its crescendo the sky was torn open. _

_Light poured out from the tear in the sky and flashes of color lit the sky. The darkness seemed to cower before the light. The trees' shrieks of pain now were mixed with the sound of fear as well as loathing. The man's eyes were fixed upon the center of the tear as a blazing figure burst forth. Unlike its predecessors, who plummeted like lightning to the earth, this figure was engulfed in a raging inferno. The creature fell from the tear, leaving a trail of fire behind itself as it burned through the primitive atmosphere. The creature that had been tumbling in the sky suddenly began to slow down as its wings shot out. The leathery wings acted as a parachute slowing it down, and then began flapping rapidly trying to regain lost altitude. As the figure rose back to the tear two forms shot forth from it._

_Two men in dazzling garments shot across the sky towards the flaming figure. As the flaming creature rose to meet them a sword formed in its hand out of the flame that engulfed it. The men, as they neared the creature, drew their swords and prepared for battle. The trees that had been shrieking not long ago had grown deafly silent as the three figures began to battle. Silence, once broken by the falling figures, returned once again, but it was short lived. _

_The three figures met in a clash that made the very earth beneath the man's feet tremble. He stumbled as he tried to stand steady, but never took his eyes off the battle being waged above him. Blow after blow, parry after parry the war raged on. The Inferno produced a second sword to better battle the two, and succeeded in matching their attacks. The two men attacked in synchronized patterns before they split to attack the Inferno from opposite sides. The swords soon moved so quick they became nothing but blurs, lost in the light and darkness of the sky. _

_The men swung and the inferno met their attack. The three remained bound by their swords as the two men propelled the inferno to the earth._

_A brilliant flash of light shown forth as the three crashed into the earth. _

The eyes of the one called Red shot open as he awoke from his dream. He looked around hurriedly, expecting to see those horrid trees again. His body was tense; his muscles and his hands ached from the intense grip that he had held throughout his night's adventure. He had woken in a cold sweat, gasping for air as if he had been trapped underwater. The sight of his elevator-shaft hideaway finally came into full view as the darkness of fear faded from his eyes.

This was the third time he had had this dream in the last few months, no detail ever changed. Despite the fact that it was a reoccurring dream, his level of fear and surprise never dropped. He awoke the same way every time: terrified and confused. What were the creatures that fell and became those hideous misshapen trees? What was that ball of fire that scorched the sky? And who were those two men that did battle against it? The answers eluded him again this time, and he was left with only the sound of his breathing.

He finally started to calm down as he walked out of the elevator shaft and went to one of the employee exits. He stood in the doorway and breathed deeply of the cool night air. The sky was mostly dark tonight, barely any light from the moon and none from the stars, save of course for the North Star. He gazed longingly at the star for what seemed like hours before he finally shook his head grimacing and returned to his hideaway. Beauty was a luxury not meant for one who deals in shadows. There was no salvation for a death dealer, especially not this one. Then again, why was there a need for salvation in the first place? He was a faithful servant of the King. The stories of gods and goddesses were just that, stories. Myths one might say of a naïve little people desperate for something to ease their psychotic suffering.

That's all that they were. Clever words. Nothing more.

In a few short hours the sun would break from the shadows and return to rule the day. How he despised the sun. That golden orb that hung amidst the clouds was a mocking remembrance of the desperate struggle between the night and the light. He wasn't one of the undead, if they ever existed, who was bound to the rules of darkness. He just didn't particularly like the light.

He walked back to the elevator shaft, but before he reached it the phone in his pocket started ringing. His master; who else? He flipped it open and answered it.

"Yes, my master?"

"_Servant, your presence is expected tomorrow, sometime after noon. There's an important matter I wish to discuss with you."_

"_Yes of course, my lord."_

His master left the servant for the second time that night. Now, however, the servant was left pondering as to what business was to be discussed. Only special "hits" required him coming to the King's office. How exciting. As he walked back to his hideaway a grin escaped from his lips.

_The Sacrifice of Innocence, this work need to be done. _

_Now blow the horn. Hail to the gun._


	7. Comin' To Your City

Hello everyone! I do not own Stephen King's The Dark Tower, nor Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's Brimstone. All characters are used out of admiration for such a great authors. I also do not own the following anime Chrono Crusade, the Get Backers, or Hellsing. This is a work of Fanfiction, based off of ideas of myself and a friend of mine.

S.O.S

_Chapter 6 – Comin' To Your City_

The morning light crept into the shades of St. Raphael's rectory to find Fr. Kyle already awake having his breakfast. His usual sleeping habits would have been appalled at his early rising, but moments such as these weren't without explanation. Throughout the night Kyle had mused over the thought of Raphael truly being present somewhere in the country, even more in his own city. How could it be? He had thought it over a thousand times and still he couldn't get a stable answer. His head ached, but he didn't take any pain killers. Instead he offered it up. Maybe he'd be rewarded with some much needed information…or with a worse headache.

He was pouring of the morning newspaper when Fr. Remmington strolled into the kitchen adjusting his Roman collar.

"Fr. Kyle, you're up unusually early today. Normally we don't hear from you until at least 9:30."

"Couldn't sleep last night…"

"I suppose not, what with Sister Kate watching your every move"

Kyle quickly glanced around to ensure that he wasn't in fact being watched. His nerves still hadn't quite recovered from the surprise visit. Sister Kate was not one to irritate.

Remmington moved toward the sink and began to prepare the morning coffee, adding his own special spices to the mix. He prepared breakfast as well. Fr. Kyle wasn't much of a cook, even with toast, so Remmington graciously lent his talents.

Moments later Remmington was seated with a tray of toast, bagels, fresh coffee, some fruit, and a bowl of Captain Crunch.

"So tell me, what happened last night with Mr. Chambers."

Fr. Kyle sighed as he poured milk over his Captain Crunch, "I got there about the same time that forensics started doing they're analysis. I walked pushed through the crowd, got yelled at by a Satanist, and finally reached the scene where I was brought to Chamber's body. I met with Lieutenant D'Agosta, but he didn't disclose much. Ten deaths, high caliber shot to the head, a message left at each one. Pretty much what we could have found out at a newsstand."

"I see…I suppose this means we'll have to play detective again."

"Undoubtedly," Fr. Kyle said in between spoonfuls.

"Oh, I gave Constance your request. She'll begin researching the symbol today. Hopefully there will be something to try and pull the crimes together."

"Hmph, I'm going to call a Parish Council meeting today to discuss our movements concerning the case. I'll be counting on your support, Ewan."

"I needn't say that you already have it. If I may ask, what do you think of the case?"

Kyle thought for a moment staring at his breakfast before he began eating again.

"I don't know what to think. It looked like a bunch of random deaths, but soon became serial killings. No trace of the killer and no suspects. It's too clean…there's something that isn't right about the thing. It's almost…supernatural…that a man could kill eleven people and not leave a single trace as to whom or what he might be."

Remmington nodded in agreement, "Yes, it certainly does. Hopefully when Constance presents her research with the symbol as well as other deaths in the fashion of Chambers we will have something to chase," he stood, "Pardon me for a moment, I must go collect the morning paper."

"Oh just let the secretary get it on her way in," he called impatiently.

"Sorry, I must have my morning paper or else breakfast is incomplete," Remmington called back."

Kyle waited until Remmington left to take what was left of the toast and munched happily. _You take my dinner, I take your breakfast. It's only fair…ish…_

Remmington returned carrying the morning paper under his arm and took his seat at the table. He opened it and with a free hand reached out to find his toast he left in the care of Fr. Kyle. He succeeded in finding one remaining slice and took a bite out of it. With his face hidden behind the paper, Kyle was all but alone.

"It appears the Sox won last night."

A grin of satisfaction spread across Kyle's face. At least one good thing happened last night.

Moments passed in almost silence as the papers shifted with each turn. Finally Remmington turned back to the front page he had skipped to deliver Kyle's news. His eyes narrowed and a grunt of surprise escaped him.

"What?"

"See for yourself," he said as he handed Kyle the paper.

"_**Limitless" Reconstruction Project to Begin**_

_New York – In a recent movement the rights to the_

_Tower of Senef, commonly known to citizens as the_

"_Limitless Fortress", have been claimed by Industrial _

_Positronics. _

_The "Limitless Fortress" has for many years been a _

_Crime ridden area, comparable to a hedonistic_

_Jungle. After its former owner, Lightning King Inc., _

_Abandoned the project the tower remained in a _

"_in-construction" state. It has been the hotspot for_

_many of the more infamous gangs of our city, including_

"_The Voltz", "Snake Bite", and the "Dr. J's." In recent _

_years, however, the area has been dormant, but citizens_

_are still wary of returning to it._

_Industrial Positronics' spokesman,Senior Executive_

_Walter O'Dim, commented on the recent business_

_venture. "We want to pick up right where Lightning _

_King left off and create a center of technological _

_advancement," says Walter O'Dim, "America needs_

_to stand up to the technological race that is happening_

_in our modern world, and not only stand, but seize its_

_opportunity. That is exactly what we at Industrial _

_Positronics plan to accomplish."_

_Industrial Positronics has long been involved in_

_Nano technology, biomedical technological _

_Advancement, and robotics. This company now_

_Accounts for most of the microchips and A.I._

_Technology used by hospitals, N.A.S.A., and even_

_The Military._

"They're actually going to rebuild that place? I thought they learned their lesson with the wars that went on a few years ago?" Kyle exclaimed in shock.

"It appears that some are ignorant to the mistakes of the past," replied Remmington, "I only hope that this doesn't end like the last attempt at control of the tower."

"I don't think I'll ever understand humanity, at times their predictable and at other times they surprise you in ways you never thought possible."

"Well they were made in His image and likeness after all," Remmington added with a smirk.

"Yeah, He can be pretty surprising Himself can't He?"

"Indeed."

Fr. Kyle returned to the last of his cereal as Remmington informed him of the schedule for the day: Mass at 7:00 am, afternoon visits to parishioners in the hospitals, Meeting with the Order, couples counseling, meetings with new parishioners, and finally dinner. The two proceeded to divide the agenda. Fr. Remmington offered to celebrate Mass and visit the parishioners, while Kyle prepared for the meetings with the Order tonight. Tonight he would break the news about the possibility of Raphael's resurfacing into the world and their future plans to track him. Also Sisters Constance and Anne Marie should have some information on the homicides. _Another day in the life of Super Priest. I love it._

Fr. Kyle disposed of his dish into the dishwasher and said goodbye to Remmington as he worked his way into his office. A sea of paper mountains spread out haphazardly across the desks and chairs met him. His paperwork on the recent cases seemed to mock him with their presence. With a sigh he took his seat and began the late work that had earned him a privileged visit from Sister Kate.

He worked straight for a few hours before the office phone interrupted him. Stifling a yawn he picked up the phone.

"St. Raphaels."

"Fr. Kyle? This is Lieutenant D'Agosta."

"Yes Lieutenant, I suppose you've called about the file for the Order."

"Yeah I did. The file is ready for you, but I'd prefer if you could come down to the station to pick it up. That way if you have any questions it'd be easier to answer them."

"Alright, what time should I aim for?"

"How's quarter to one sound?"

"Sounds good. Thank you Lieutenant, I appreciate it."

"Your welcome. See you in a few hours."

As he terminated the call Kyle jotted down the time for reference and taped it to his computer screen. He got up to stretch, walked to the window, and glanced outside. School had begun already and the bells could just faintly be heard. He decided to stop by and pay a visit to the school before stopping by the station. Glancing at his watch he saw that it was only 8:56am. He had a little less than four hours to kill. Walking back to his desk he grabbed a pile of paperwork resting on a nearby chair and set to work on it.

Seeing that Remmington had taken the car for the hospital rounds Kyle's transportation choices were severely limited to walking and taking the train. The subway was only 5 blocks away and it gave him the chance to get in some exercise. As he walked down the streets sporting his Roman collar and signature Fendora hat he nodded to the people as they passed. No one would have guessed that this particular priest was investigating the recent homicides. Then again, everyone thought that all priests did was get fat off of the parishioners generous deserts. His fully toned abs begged to differ.

He reached the subway gate and purchased his ticket. Here came the fun part: Waiting. The train appeared seconds later, contrary to Kyle's prediction of thirteen minutes. _Maybe I should have been a weatherman._ He boarded the cramped subway taking an available seat, but soon offering it up to a mother and her child. He grabbed the nearest grip and held on as the train rocketed through the tunnel.

Kyle exited the subway and walked back up to the streets to reach the police station four blocks away. It was already 12:38. If he still wanted to be early he would have to be quick. He quickened his pace as he turned the corner towards the station. As he did so he rammed into a man coming from around the corner. As their shoulders collided an apology was already on Kyle's lips, but it remained in his throat as the man he slammed into met eyes with him. The man pushed past him and continued to walk on; his red coat flapping behind him as he walked.

Kyle remained fixed to the ground as he watched the man pass. Although it had only been a few seconds it had felt like an eternity. Upon hearing a blaring horn from the passing taxi's he awoke from his hypnotized state and began to hurry down the street towards the police station. The image of the man was still in his mind however.

The image of the man with the red eyes.


End file.
